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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24261382">Welcome Home, Hermione</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Levit/pseuds/Levit'>Levit</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Family, Fluff, Friendship, Malfoy Manor, Marriage, Marriage Law Challenge, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Hermione Granger, Rituals, Wedding Fluff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 22:47:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,844</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24261382</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Levit/pseuds/Levit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Seven steps for marrying a Malfoy. Or: how to make biscuits  with Lucius, choose a dress with Harry and Ron, and fall madly in love.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>124</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Welcome Home, Hermione</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            A translation of

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24039808">Bienvenue à la maison, Hermione</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Assommoir/pseuds/Assommoir">Assommoir</a>.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Original Author's Note: Just a fun little story to fight boredom. Nothing belongs to me obviously. Not a very original story, either. It is mainly an exercise for me :)</p>
<p>Translator's Note: I had a little difficulty with tense while translating this as most of it is present tense, but there are instances that require past tense. I apologize for any discrepancies. Also, I’m an American living in Canada so this is not brit-picked, but I do try my best!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>ONE — HERMIONE</p>
<p>Under the beating sun, the portkey drops you with a crash before the gleaming gates of Malfoy Manor. Behind you, you hear an exclamation followed by a grunt of pain when Crookshanks’ cage falls on Wendell Wilkins’ feet.</p>
<p>Monica, your mother, approaches you so that the gate will open for her, grateful for your magical signature.</p>
<p>The structure is not yet visible, the anti-apparition protective barriers covering several hectares, including several wooded plots of land, a lake, and a large park. You know this because you have been here twice before.</p>
<p>The first time, you prefer not to think about, although you are reminded every time you undress. You have learned to avoid looking at certain parts of you body.</p>
<p>However, the second visit was much worse than its predecessor.</p>
<p>Your parents make a sign of advancing toward you. A small carriage harnessed with horses and manned by a house-elf waits in front of you to take you up to the Manor.</p>
<p>Last time, you were accompanied by an official representative from the ministry and Mrs. Weasley in the absence of your parents, who were still in the process of moving from Australia. You sat politely on the dark blue velour cushions of the sofa in the reception room, making the appearance of drinking the tea where a dose of calming potion had been added under the gentle instruction of Narcissa Malfoy.</p>
<p>Even though your manners had been irreproachable, all you wanted was to cry for help, for rebellion, starting with your outfit: what audacity to wear jean overalls and converse half unlaced to such a meeting. And yet, you were there, your hands dirty from a morning spent painting the walls of Grimmauld Place with Harry and Teddy carried on your back.</p>
<p>Under the instruction of the Minister for Magic, a tentative unification between Purebloods and Muggleborns had been initiated under the form of marriage. Draco and you were selected on the basis of a compatibility percentage both magical and psychological—99%, something never seen before. Ten other couples were selected, but none of which you knew well enough to pity.</p>
<p>The goal of these marriages is to bury the hatchet of the war, to make an example for future generations. What could be better than the union of a former Death Eater and a war heroine? You had seriously considered fleeing abroad, imagining hundreds of different torture methods for Kingsley to make him pay.</p>
<p>In the end, all you want is to finally be allowed to live a peaceful life. You do not have a boyfriend, at least not after the fiasco with Viktor who wanted to introduce you to his parents after only a week when you were fifteen.</p>
<p>Here, at least, you already know Draco’s parents, you think with a dark chuckle. Maybe even a little too much.</p>
<p>After having travelled up the park, the carriage abruptly stops in front of a grand white stone staircase. At the top of the steps, the entire Malfoy family stands, house-elves included. Your father whispers in your ear, “So this is your fiancé! He seems charming.”</p>
<p>Obviously to make this whole thing easier, you had not told your parents of the deception: they think Draco and you are madly in love with each other.</p>
<p>You quickly climb the steps, your parents following not far behind. You greet the Malfoys, who wear their best smiles for the occasion, something which is extremely rare. You then remember that you too will soon be a Malfoy and sigh internally.</p>
<p>Interestingly, Narcissa seems to sincerely happy to see you. Maybe it is the joy of planning a wedding?</p>
<p>Draco explains to your parents that today is an important day. It is the day where the engagement is officialised, and the future wife is officially welcomed into the home. In a few months, the real magical union will take place, concluding the marriage ceremony. However, by moving into the home of your future husband, you are strengthening your relationship and preparing to become part of the family. Step by step, your magical signature is added to the diverse barriers of protection. Traditionally, the goal was to make sure that there was no magical incompatibility between the two parties in order to avoid disaster.</p>
<p>In your case, you know that this will not be a problem, as attested to by the letter from the minister attached to your dossier. Nevertheless, the Malfoys are very attached to tradition, and you decide you will also make an effort.</p>
<p>Lucius begins the ceremony by asking your parents to step aside. He leads both you and Draco right in front of the door where a white cloth has been installed. Above, a large metal bowl is placed containing crystal-clear water, a small napkin, as well as a dagger.</p>
<p>Draco kneels on the ground and you watch intensely. You feel your cheeks burn and you prefer to attribute the sensation to the heat of the sun beating on your exposed neck rather than the emotions brought about by your future husband.</p>
<p>The ceremony begins. You had read in a manual the steps for a wizard marriage, but it can vary from one family to another. Bill and Fleur’s wedding, for example, was very simple and was comprised of only a few ritual elements.</p>
<p>Draco’s pale and elegant hand rests on your foot, which is half naked due to your sandals. You feel his warm palm against your skin and a light shiver rises along your back. Your rival for all these years. Now, the person with whom you will spend your life.</p>
<p>He grasps the buckle and slowly slides the strap out, then takes your shoe off. You raise one foot, then the other, like a robot. You are so tense that you bite your lip until blood seeps. Draco murmurs a word of encouragement to you, so low that no other person can hear. Deep down, you appreciate his help.</p>
<p>You place your bare feet on the warm stone, at the edge of the carpet where Draco resides. The next step is a ritual washing of the feet, during which the young man delicately touches the soles of your feet, your toes, your ankles. You have not even kissed yet, though he already knows the feeling of the rough skin of your heels.</p>
<p>You dry your feet on the cloth, then Draco hand you the dagger, to the astonished look of your parents. Knowing the impulsive character of your mother, you signal to her that you are fine and not to move. With the tip of the blade, you cut your palm enough so that a trickle of blood can flow onto the doorstep. The stone sucks the blood greedily and the magic sizzles in the air. Suddenly, you can feel all around you the power of the magic that protects this place, the runes that vibrate in unison, the filaments that weave a barrier along the property. The intensity lowers after a few seconds and you can finally catch your breath.</p>
<p>Then the Malfoys all approach you, one by one. Lucius is first, pronouncing a spell that makes a slight cut on the tip of his index finger. As you have shed your blood for them, they must now shed theirs to welcome you into the family. It is ironic that they had considered your blood so impure for so many years, yet they now accept it with open arms. Lucius then says a short phrase in Latin—neither a spell nor an incantation, simply a part of the tradition; then traces a cross upon your forehead with his fingertip. Narcissa, her eyes watery, draws the same cross with her blood during her turn, then with a burst of emotion, takes you in her arms. In shock, you return the embrace until she retires to make room for Draco.</p>
<p>He gets up and recreates the same gestures as his parents, looking deep into your gaze. All your Occlumency barriers fall one by one while you are able to do nothing about it, but that is not his fault, he is not looking to read into your psyche. It is you who is perturbed. The beating of your heart accelerates as he gently places his hands on the side of your face, his thumbs softly caressing your cheeks. You know what follows as you have studied the ritual, but you cannot help but be seized with a mixture of both fear and impatience.</p>
<p>In an instant his lips are on yours, sealing the ritual. A trace of magic prickles on your lips even while he withdraws. Your body betrays you, your hands clammy.</p>
<p>Under the applause of your family—and by family you mean both the Wilkins, your muggle parents who nearly lost their entire memories, and the Malfoys, you new family—Draco lifts you like a princess to go through the threshold of the door. This is a tradition that marks the arrival of a new member of the family. The young woman is bound to the earth of her new family and is purified of her old attachments via the washing of her feet. Symbolically, the future husband carries his fiancée into the house.</p>
<p>Welcome home, Hermione.</p>
<hr/>
<p>TWO—DRACO</p>
<p>You return from work Wednesday evening exhausted, after having run around all day chasing potential partners for your new project. You go out onto the terrace that overhangs the garden, scanning the landscape in front of you. Your mother is sipping a cocktail in the exotic plant greenhouse with Mrs. Parkinson. She has been happier these last few months since the arrival of Hermione—your future wife. It’s as if a new wind has swept into the Manor, like her radiant presence has helped fight the profound gloominess that had been embedded since the end of the war.</p>
<p>You unbutton the first buttons on your shirt and roll up your sleeves to fight the suffocating June air. It has been so hot the past few days that the air seems to be charged, as if a storm will soon erupt. A cluster of black tinted clouds lurking beyond the horizon.</p>
<p>Today is your birthday.</p>
<p>Your stomach grumbles, your body crying out in hunger. Usually, you would have organized a small party with your friends before having a nice meal with your parents. Since the war, parties are scarce. Of course, the elves have already made an excellent meal—but nothing more extraordinary than their usual meals.</p>
<p>You make your way toward the kitchen for a small aperitif so as to calm the rebellion in your stomach. Tiptoeing as you enter, so as not be reprimanded by the elves for eating right before dinnertime, you abruptly stop before the entrance. The door is closed. You cannot see inside the kitchen, but you can hear voices coming from the room.</p>
<p>“I must say, Ms. Granger, that I did not expect this from you. I was pleasantly surprised by your most recent article in <em>Wizards from Here and There</em>. I must say that your comparative analysis on pre-wizarding education in Great Britain and France is particularly poignant.”</p>
<p>“Thank you, Mr. Malfoy, but...please call me Hermione. I will not be a Granger for much longer, right?”</p>
<p>Have you fallen into a parallel universe, or are your father and Granger having a civilized conversation in the kitchen?</p>
<p>You have never seen you father in the kitchen before.</p>
<p>Not waiting any longer, you finally enter the room. Hermione seems surprised to see you and immediately tries to hide something in her hands, but the effort is in vain.</p>
<p>“Happy birthday, Draco” she says, wrinkling her nose with disappointment. “I wanted it to be a surprise for you. Your mother told me that it was your favourite pastry and that you rarely have a chance to eat them.”</p>
<p>In her hands is a magnificent lemon tarte partially covered with meringue.</p>
<p>“I still have to finish the poaching!” she adds.</p>
<p>You are gobsmacked. This is the first time that a person outside of your close familial circle has done something so touching for you.</p>
<p>When it was announced to you that you were going to have to marry Granger, you passed through all the states: anger, denial, then acceptance. Little by little you were successful in looking beyond your prejudices: yes, Hermione is a Gryffindor. Yes, she is as stubborn as an ox. Yes, she does not know the Pureblood traditions and ways and she is tenacious in her will to save every magical creature down to even the recent mosquitoes who have come out recently due to the heat and would like to do nothing more than to suck your blood all day.</p>
<p>But...you have also learned that you do not know all of her qualities.</p>
<p>And when she watches him attentively like that, softly chewing her bottom lip between her teeth, her head slightly lowered, you only have one desire. It’s...</p>
<p>“Draco, dear, would you pass the rose shaped cookie cutter behind you, please?”</p>
<p>Why was your father making shortbread in the shape of flowers? He watches you in a calm and haughty manner, as if challenging you to raise a fuss.</p>
<p>You glance at Granger who is on the verge on laughing.</p>
<p>“Your father had the generosity to come help me in the kitchen this afternoon.” She says after regaining her composure.</p>
<p>“Yes Draco, I was only helping Ms. Granger—Hermione, you see. Like any gentleman would! Now pass me the cookie cutter, would you?”</p>
<p>He returns to his biscuits.</p>
<p>You sigh as you leave the kitchen. If the world is crazy enough that you are marrying Granger—without even hating the situation, you can just as well accept that your father has started baking.</p>
<p>Or worse, that Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, former Death Eater and right arm to Voldemort, ex-Muggle hunter...is starting to like Hermione Granger, the Muggleborn and best friend of Harry Potter.</p>
<p>Happy birthday, Draco</p>
<hr/>
<p>THREE—HERMIONE</p>
<p>Something that you clearly underestimated when becoming Draco’s fiancée is the excitement Narcissa has around organizing a wedding. Barely a few days after you have moved into the manor, your mother and Narcissa got together to discuss the ceremony proceedings, the colour of the flowers in your bouquet, and the type of cream on the wedding cake.</p>
<p>You learn very quickly to excuse yourself from these type of meetings under the pretext that Draco needs to see you, or you invent some type of pressing work issue. In response, to make you excuses credible, you have effectively been needing to work twice as much the past month and have spent all your other evenings in the company of Malfoy—Draco.</p>
<p>At first, you would both sit in silence in the library (he too was glad to be able to escape the piles of <em>Bridal Magazine</em>). Then, little by little, you started to discuss what you were both reading. Then your jobs, then your respective lives. You spoke to him about your professional aspirations, he spoke of the hardships he has faced since the end of the war.</p>
<p>He has apologized multiple times.</p>
<p>Day by day, week after week, these moments together pass and become more and more enjoyable, until you think about it at breakfast, glancing at the young man seated across from you nibbling on a slice of toast, still partially asleep. The day where you came down for breakfast in pyjama shorts decorated with little cat motifs, Lucius choked on his strip of bacon. Just to see the little spark of joy in Draco’s eyes, you had repeated this provocation every morning, until the shock wore off and you tired of it.</p>
<p>A month after your arrival, Narcissa, Molly, and you mother forcibly kidnap you  for an afternoon of planning. Upon arriving in the conservatory, your mother’s arm wrapped around you in a vice grip, you find Draco surrounded by the two other women, a pile of ribbons on his legs, standing with an air of discontent.</p>
<p>“Hello, Hermione dearie,” Molly announces happily as she comes up to greet you with open arms “unfortunately, Ginny could not come today, otherwise she would be helping you pick out the dresses for the maids of honour.”</p>
<p>“I don’t think that my <em>maids of honour</em> would like to wear dresses, Mrs. Weasley” you respond  laughing.</p>
<p>“What do you mean, Hermione?” Narcissa asks, eyebrows drawn “your mother told us you that you wished for your cousin Sarah to be your maid of honour.”</p>
<p>You throw a surprised look at your mother, then you recall that your mother, Monica, does not really know much about you since you erased all of her memories. She knows you as if she had met you at twenty, already an adult, like someone who has known you for only a week. She does not remember what you used to eat during snack time when you were eight, what your favourite colours are, how you take your tea. It is therefore normal that she does not remember that your cousin Sarah thinks that you are mentally disturbed and that is the reason you had gone to study abroad at a “special” boarding school.</p>
<p>“In face, I was rather thinking of Harry and Ron. Preferably sans tutus, Molly.” You smile angelically while dropping that bomb in the middle of the conversation. Draco is apparently the only one who finds this funny according to the faces of the three women.</p>
<p>The problem is that you still need to succeed in convincing Harry and Ron to be your maids of honour. You had already tried asking Ginny, but the redhead is so busy with her Quidditch career that it would have been more of a burden than a pleasure for her.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Thursday evening, while out do drinks at the Leaky Cauldron, you ask the boys the question. Of course, you are not stupid, you waited until they had drunk two pints before asking them in order to stack the odds in your favour.</p>
<p>“but I don’t know anything about weddings, ‘Mione. I won’t be able to help you with this!” Ron stammered in fright.</p>
<p>“Ronald Weasley listen to me! I washed your dirty boxers during the months we were on the run. The least you can do is this small favour!”</p>
<p>Sprawled in the booth next to yours, glasses askew, Harry is absolutely dying of laughter.</p>
<p>“and you there, hey! Who better than my best friends know what I want for my wedding?”</p>
<p>And you burst into laughter at the idea of the Saviour of the wizarding world sat in a mud bath, two cucumber slices over his eyes.</p>
<p>“Honestly, Hermione, if you had had your way, you wouldn’t even need preparation. An intimate ceremony between close friends and family. That way you can spend as much time as possible in the library.”</p>
<p>Ron steps in at this point. “anyway, you look at it, it would be a huge joke that would drive our mums barmy! Sirius would be proud of us.”</p>
<p>You add “Either way, its you two, or Fleur and Lavender, and I do not want to end up with frilly tulle.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>Of course, the boys complain when you take them to the bridal shop to look for wedding dresses. Molly and Narcissa had prepared a collage with pictures from wedding magazines. Before they succeed in grabbing Mr. Taillefut, you pull him aside in order to quickly whisper some words, so that he understands what your expectations are. From their side, Harry and Ron have found the champagne and tiny finger sandwiches.</p>
<p>You spin inside the dressing room while trying on the first few dresses, but nothing seems to grab you. After trying out a dozen dresses, you start to get frustrated and stop to put on your street clothes, when suddenly Ron’s hand shoots in with a hanger carrying a transparent cover.</p>
<p>“Harry and I tried to look around a bit. We thought you might like this.” He sticks his head between the thick velvet curtains and watches you unzip the cover and suspend the dress on a hook.</p>
<p>It is sublime.</p>
<p>Obviously, you chose your maids on honour well.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The problem is that after the success they have with the dress, the two dolts gain confidence and start to become more invested in the preparations.</p>
<p>It gets to the point where, on Monday morning, before you can even have a sip of coffee, you find Harry sitting at the table having breakfast with Narcissa, their heads huddled over some green invitations. You rush toward Teddy who is giggling in his highchair next to them.</p>
<p>“Tell me, Hermione, Narcissa and I wanted to know if the invitations should be sea green or emerald green.” Harry asks you completely serious.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The next day, an owl knocks repeatedly on your window at three in the morning. Draco storms into your room in a rage, his wand in hand, wearing only tight boxer shorts, his hair a mess.</p>
<p>“Oh Merlin, it’s only an owl. What a racket” he says, running a and through his hair tiredly.</p>
<p>You open the window and retrieve the parcel attached to the owl’s leg. Inside the box you find four small displays as well as a piece of parchment signed by Ron.</p>
<p>You sigh and instantly begin to pen a letter to Harry and Ron, under Draco’s wild-eyed watch.</p>
<p>
  <em>Dear Harry, Ron,</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>If you keep bothering me about the wedding at all hours of the day and night, I will personally take care to remove your testicles one by one and feed them to Crookshanks.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>With love, Hermione.</em>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>FOUR—DRACO</p>
<p>You turn in your bed, once, then twice, then three times. You get up several times to drink water, your thirst never seeming to end. Half an hour later, still awake, sheets twisted around your bare legs, you get up to go to the bathroom, a consequence of all the water you drank throughout the night.</p>
<p>It is late, maybe two o’clock in the morning, and the sky is dark. The wedding will take place tomorrow, in the park, as dictated by tradition. The date was chosen at random, but fate has right by you seeing as the moon is absent: a new moon, a sign on renewal, of a change in your lives.</p>
<p>You grab some loose trousers and put them on in a single motion, then you head outside, your steps silent as to not wake Hermione who is sleeping in the room next to yours. Your parents are in a wing opposite to the two of you, the Manor is so large that they would not hear you even if you were to scream bloody murder. You have tried this before when you were younger, drunk with Blaise and Pansy. The good times.</p>
<p>Tomorrow, Hermione and you will move into a bedroom together. The bed will be sprinkled with rose petals, the room illuminated by candle, the sheets immaculate.</p>
<p>You do not even know if she is a virgin. You hope not.</p>
<p>Some steps later and you are outside on the dewy grass in the garden, bare feet on the lawn. The tension that had built up in your body loosens a bit from the contact with mother earth, your magic sizzling in pleasure. Along the way some torches are lit up, indicating that someone has decided to chase away insomnia in the same manner as you.</p>
<p>You stop for a moment when you arrive at the rose garden. Under the crumbling arches of flowers with an intoxicating scent, dressed in a tiny satin kimono, Hermione is sitting with her back to you.</p>
<p>The robe has slipped a few centimetres down her shoulder, and you see her shiver under the light summer breeze. Her hair is messily piled on top of her head, held together by her wand. A mole in the hollow of her neck makes your blood pulsate.</p>
<p>“Hi, Draco.” She says without even turning.</p>
<p>“Stressed?” you ask her while taking a seat next to her on the bench. Her hands nervously squeeze her knees.</p>
<p>“when I arrived here, I was prepared to hate you. To have to fight every day for what I believe in, for the right to keep working at my job, to live my life the way I want to.”</p>
<p>She pauses and turns her head toward you. Under the shaky glow of the torches placed around you, the shadows dance.</p>
<p>“I didn’t expect to get support from your parents. Professional help from your father. Affection and nice company from your mother.”</p>
<p>She looks you deeply in the eye.</p>
<p>“I did not expect to become more and more attached to you.”</p>
<p>You want to answer her. <em>It is me who is greatly attached to you, Granger, like a moth to a flame.</em></p>
<p>“I didn’t expect to flourish as I have, to enjoy each day spending time with you, to share moments together.”</p>
<p>
  <em>Oh, Granger, if you only knew.</em>
</p>
<p>“Basically, what is stressing me the most tonight, is that I’m not feeling stressed. It’s having no apprehension about jumping headfirst into this new life. On the other hand, it must be horrible for you, having been engaged to Astoria, and I don’t know why I’m telling you...”</p>
<p>You cut into her monologue by positioning your hands on the side of her face and placing a languid kiss on her lips. All that you do not know how to express to her in words, you put into this kiss, into your hands’ caress on her skin, her hair. You feel her respond with a heat and the same intensity that is so characteristic of everything she does in her life, with passion and audacity.</p>
<p>You leave a series of short kisses along her jaw, then slowly descending to her neck, mouth over. She exhales in pleasure, the warm air vibrating against your ear. You suck on the hollow of her shoulder, at her tender neck.</p>
<p>Tomorrow, she will wear the marks under her dress. Tomorrow, she will be yours.</p>
<p>When her hand ventures close—too close—to the lower half of your boiling body, the torches suddenly extinguish. An explosion of accidental magic, a system failure, you cannot say. However, you both realize that it is time to stop and head back to catch a few hours of sleep before the big day.</p>
<p>In your bed, for the first time, you lie unmoving.</p>
<p>On your face, however, a peaceful smile forms. You are calm, serene.</p>
<p>Tomorrow, she will be your wife.</p>
<hr/>
<p>FIVE—HERMIONE</p>
<p>You wake up to a powerful aroma of coffee and toast. You turn in your bed, trying to return to your dream in vain: your stomach rumbles ferociously. You sigh, stretching and when you open your eyes you see that a plate full of goodies has been placed on your bedside table.</p>
<p>Suddenly, you remember your nocturnal tryst with Draco and you are divided between the desire to curl up again under the duvet, face in hands, petrified in shame over the idea of having bared your heart out in front of him, and the desire to scream in joy at the notion that he too may share your feelings.</p>
<p>Sinking back down into the soft mattress, you slide a teasing hand down your stomach and then under your cotton panties. This evening you will wear white, but your knickers will be thin lace, so fine that it will only take a moment for Draco to tear them away before sinking deep into you...<em>Oh...</em></p>
<p>When you rise to eat your breakfast, you silently bless the elves for thinking to keep your drink under a spell so that it says at the right temperature. You are not supposed to use your wand today so that the fate which will bind you both will be as neutral as possible.</p>
<p>A ritual bath was organized to prepare for the ceremony. You do not  know the details, but you know that traditionally the youngest sister of the groom helps the bride with the preparation of her body. In place of a sister, Ginny has accepted to participate in this step with you, even more so than she had done when assisting in this with Fleur.</p>
<p>An elf leads the two of you toward a door that has appeared in your room: a large adjacent bathroom  has been added magically, replacing the small water closet that you had had previously. On the stone floor a large basin filled with milky white water has been placed, large enough that you think you could immerse yourself completely within.</p>
<p>Ginny leads you to bathtub and begins to pull on your night shirt.</p>
<p>“I can do that myself, Gin. I’m not allowed to use magic, but I can bathe myself.”</p>
<p>Ginny shakes her head sadly, “It’s necessary that you let me do it, Hermione. This tradition’s goal is show that your future family can take care of you. Well, in theory it should have been someone from the Malfoy Family, but being the only child of an only child...Tonks possibly could have been here.”</p>
<p>You smile bitterly thinking of your friend who is not here, who left behind an adorable little boy.</p>
<p>“Can you picture Teddy in his little suit? It’s going to be so adorable!” Ginny coos.</p>
<p>A few moments later you find yourself naked before the bath. Ginny scatters some branches of herbs and some flower petals on the surface of the water. You splash about peacefully for a few minutes, and then your friend signals for you to wet your hair so that she may wash it. Her hands on your scalp feels as if you are in paradise.</p>
<p>The washing of your body is a little bit embarrassing, but after having shared a dormitory with other girls for six years and then a tent while on the run with two adolescent boys, nothing phases you anymore.</p>
<p>An hour later, dried, oiled, and brushed, you go back into your room, a dressing gown around your glistening body. Harry and Ron are to join you for this step and as soon as they both arrive, they collapse miserably onto your bed.</p>
<p>“Sorry we can’t help you with your hair, ‘Mione. Or with your makeup” Ron declares.</p>
<p>“So much the better. I clearly had no plans to make you do so. And Ginny is here and in charge of those two positions. She’s not really a professional, either. Not meaning any offense, Gin.”</p>
<p>“Oi!” the redhead exclaims, her hands on her hips. Then she seems to reconsider and admits “Yeah well, you’re not wrong. On the contrary boys, I also need to get ready. Can you lend Hermione a hand in putting on her dress?”</p>
<p>“Putting on her dress?” Harry asks perplexed.</p>
<p>“Especially with buttoning it up...” you say, indicating to the long trail of tiny buttons on the back.</p>
<p>Harry grimaces. “Ah yes actually, we thought it would be funny if Malfoy struggled to death with those buttons, but we didn’t think that we would need to first <em>button</em> the dress on you.”</p>
<p>Evidently, getting dressed alone takes you a solid half hour and you bitterly regret having chosen this style, and to having asked your mother and molly to wait downstairs for you until you are ready, as to not suffocate in your little room. Clearly, you would have been better off with Molly’s deft fingers than with Ron’s giant clumsy hands.</p>
<p>But when you see the look your parents give you, your father’s brilliant eyes full of pride, you do not regret a thing. Despite the rift that has emerged between you, you need them to be with you today. At the foot of the stairs, like a princess, you are surrounded by your family, both present and future. Your parents, family by blood, your adoptive family, your friends, and your in-laws.</p>
<p>The only person missing from the group is Draco, who has a strict prohibition on seeing you before the beginning of the ceremony.</p>
<p>While your friends leave one by one to go get seated in the park where the wedding will take place, Lucius approaches you and murmurs in your ear.</p>
<p>“I could not have chosen a better daughter-in-law if I had picked one myself. You are magnificent, Ms. Granger.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>SIX—DRACO</p>
<p>You stand under the branches of a century-old oak tree, more nervous than you have ever felt before. For an arranged marriage, there seem to be a lot more feelings at stake than you had imagined.</p>
<p>Before you, sitting on wooden benches, each with a small candle in hand, your guests wait patiently for the bride to enter. One each candle has been consumed up to the last little flame, Hermione enters the scene.</p>
<p>She is the complete opposite of what one traditionally hopes for in a Malfoy wife: poised, meek, put together.</p>
<p>And yet,</p>
<p>Her hair flowing in the wind seems to have a life of its own, refusing to stay in place under a voluminous floral crown, elegantly placed on her mane.</p>
<p>Her smile.</p>
<p>Her eyes.</p>
<p>You feel a knot release deep within your stomach, your shoulders suddenly slackening.</p>
<p>Before the officiant, she takes your hand, and you are tied together by your blood, by your magic, by your words, in the sacred bonds of marriage. A whirlwind of magic seizes both of you, crackling inside your bodies, until a few seconds later it fades little by little. On your hands, a fine golden line, almost invisible, is drawn around your left ring fingers.</p>
<p>Under the din of the crowd’s applause Hermione teasingly asks you “so, when do you kiss me, Malfoy?”</p>
<p>You respond to her: “You’re a Malfoy yourself,” before kissing her passionately.</p>
<p>Your <em>wife</em>!</p>
<hr/>
<p>SEVEN—HERMIONE</p>
<p>You wake up the next morning mind foggy and the first thing that you think of is the amount of alcohol that you had imbibed yesterday and the monstrous dark rings you are going to have under your eyes.</p>
<p>Then your gaze focuses on your hand, more specifically your left hand and it is like an electroshock. That explains the presence of the warm body pressed against your back, giving off a sweet musky and woody smell, absolutely masculine. You move slightly, trying to reluctantly release yourself from the vice grip of his arms, and you feel something hard and hot pressing against your thigh.</p>
<p>Suddenly, the memories of your evening last night return in full force.</p>
<p>The languid kisses peppered across your burning body, going lower and lower...A savage, animal grasping. And finally, nirvana...three times.</p>
<p>Your entire body feels sore this morning—and you now understand the reason for that.</p>
<p>You turn slowly and your gaze settles on the head asleep in your arms, hair a mess. He opens his eyes with difficulty, granting a slight smile and leaving a soft kiss on the first uncovered piece of skin he finds—namely your right breast.</p>
<p>A sigh. Then: “my love...”</p>
<p>And he goes back to sleep.</p>
<p>You cannot prevent a silly smile.</p>
<p>Welcome home, Hermione.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Well this is my first large-scale translation project! I had a lot of fun with this, trying to keep the original voice and tone of the fic. I hope that I achieved my goal.</p>
<p>Make sure to leave your feedback on the original fic!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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